As her father had said of her in the long-ago days of happiness and prosperity, she took her hedges straight.
For several minutes after Jeanie's weary little confidence, she worked in silence; then suddenly, with needle poised, she looked across at the child.
Jeanie's head was bent over her exercise-book.

Her hair lay in a heavy mass all about her shoulders.

There was a worried frown between her brows.

Slowly her hand travelled across the page, paused, wrote a word or two, paused again.
Suddenly from the room above them there came the shrill shriek of a violin.

It wailed itself into silence, and then broke forth again in a series of long drawn-out whines.